Blessings
by akula03
Summary: Starts out 20 years after the end of the 3rd Servile War. Laeta is the mother of the Bringer of Rain's son. Delivered in flashbacks - describes many of the missing "scenes" we did not get to see in the series between Spartacus and Laeta. The only reason these two did not fall in love is that they ran out of time. Lots of angst, romance and general lemonyness. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

It seemed a lifetime ago since she had seen the massing of men preparing for war and battle. Yet she could still remember the smell of it, the dust, the blood, the sounds of battle ringing in her memory as if was yesterday she watched so many die. The mass of men far off in the distance were not hard to miss as they waited to march out towards an unknown fate. Her son was among those men now, waves of emotions roiled through her chest creating a tightness she had not felt in many years. It was so much more different now; she was a mother now, not a just a wife. Now, after all that had happened, she knew the realities of what her son, the joy of her life, would face if he were to face Rome in open battle.

As the years had passed, the lines of age and worry had impressed themselves on Laeta's face. Her burnished red-gold hair had lost none of its luster or beauty; however, it was streaked with grey. Laeta always jokingly admonished her son that the gray in her hair was his doing during his mischievous youth. The wind blew along the high hilltop across the rolling hills of the place she had called home for more than twenty years. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, her feet tucked under the bench, her back straight, her eyes drifted shut as she remembered…the wind blew stronger, whisking her back in time.

Flashes of memories rushed upon her…his eyes; the feel of heated lips upon hers, his voice raised in command…..his face at peace as he entered the afterlife. Her soul called to him in the afterlife, praying he would hear her pray to protect her son; his son. A tear escaped its tenuous grasp and rolled softly down Laeta cheek. Many years it had been since she had allowed herself to remember him. There was always so much going on, so much to be done; she had little time to reflect. Her mind returned to the day that changed her life...only this time it was a blessing.

The days after Spartacus' death were filled with peril. While Crassus had fallen off the survivor's group's trail, Pompey seemed less inclined to do so. The journey out away from the grasp of Rome was slow and arduous for many among their small group. Agron and Nasir admirably kept the group out of harm's way. For Agron, it was the only thing remaining he could do to honor the memory of Spartacus. As the weeks passed, Laeta counted the days and weeks since she had last had her menses. It had been almost six weeks, just before the snowstorm. Laeta came to the realization she may be pregnant with Spartacus' child. It was more than she would have dreamed of. For years, she and her husband had hoped for a child, and now it seemed the gods were either truly merciful, or truly cruel, to allow Spartacus' seed to take hold within her, yet take the father from her grasp. She rejoiced in the knowledge of a child, but feared what would happen if Rome were to uncover this truth. Pompey was still a threat; she would not let her child be in danger.

Laeta thought back to when it could have happened. Her mind scanned the times she and Spartacus had sought each other's arms. The first time was passionate and explosive, as if two people deprived of water for too long, taking huge gulps of that what they so desperately needed. Spartacus' passion was overwhelming. Laeta had never known another man other than her husband. Her husband had been a dutiful and responsible husband, but not the passionate force that was Spartacus. Laeta had assumed the encounter would be just the one time, given his declaration of her still being a Roman in his eyes. She had accepted his comment, for in his eyes despite all Laeta had endured, she was a Roman. Laeta had pressed forward, seeking to assist where she could amongst the rebel army. She found herself taking on the challenge of the orphan slave children who had up until her arrival, run wild amongst the rebel army. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Spartacus or Agron for that matter. Agron opening engaged Laeta in conversation when time allowed, and she spoke on occasion to Spartacus regarding the children's needs. It helped her to know that she was not being cast sidelong glances of suspicion any longer. On a particularly bright night, when the moon was at its zenith, Laeta had been unable to gain a deep sleep. On nights such as those, she was want to remove herself from the hustle of the rebel camp to seek a moment of quiet solace. Laeta had once again given up her tent to a few of the parentless children who she had taken charge of. He cloak wrapped about her, she climbed the gently sloping hill adjacent to the camp. Nighttime guards greeted her silently as she passed. She found a quiet spot where she could see the entire camp and look across the countryside beyond. She sat silently up against a large tree, wrapping the cloak around her tightly. She did not notice the man who stealthy followed her up the path toward overlooking ledge.

He watched as she paused and sat facing the ledge her back up against the large tree, almost shielding her for sight. He paused as he watched her adjust the cloak to make herself more comfortable. A tick in his cheek twitched as he realized Laeta was planning to stay there for a while, if not all night. Foolish, stubborn woman, Spartacus thought as he continued silently towards Laeta. When Spartacus was parallel with Laeta, he spoke as he looked out over the countryside and the camp.

"Why do you stray so far from the safety of camp?" Spartacus asked, annoyed. Argon had told him of Laeta repeatedly sleeping without benefit of cover over the past week, and finally he had decided to investigate the matter. He came upon Laeta's tent, only to find several children fast asleep within. That is when he saw her ascending the path towards the ledge.

Laeta was startled from her imaginings by Spartacus' low voice. She glanced up at his profile as he continued to stare out over the countryside. Memories of their passionate night together came flooding back. "I sometimes find difficulty in sleep's embrace." She paused as Spartacus turned to face her directly, staring down at her, the shadows created by the moon's light shielding a clear view of his face.

"So you journey to a place where danger has better opportunity to succeed in your death." Spartacus roughly spoke, his annoyance growing, as he knelt to look Laeta squarely. "War is all around us, Laeta. It is not a place for such ill-conceived notions, like wandering about outside the safety of the camp."

"I know we are at war. Do you think I have forgotten?" Laeta snapped back at Spartacus more forcefully than she had planned. She paused staring defiantly into his eyes. Her stance softened as she looked upon his face, seeing his concern was only for her welfare. "I only seek the solace of the moon's light to help me see to the night's embrace."

Spartacus seemingly satisfied with her answer, or just not wanting to argue, turned from Laeta, looking at the full moon. "It is peaceful up here." He noted as he looked over the countryside. Laeta stood quietly and wrapped in her cloak, walked to stand next to Spartacus. She did not say anything as she stood. Spartacus glanced at her from the side, watching her face in profile. The moon highlighted her beauty. He remembered the passionate moment they shared, the comfort and desire he felt during and afterwards. He respected Laeta for many reasons, but one of them was her beauty. It was undeniable. She was a delicate flower among trampling beasts. He wished to protect her from those beasts as best he could.

"Come. If you wish to sleep under the stars, you will need proper blanket in order to shield you from cold." Spartacus turned on his heal and walked swiftly down the path, back towards the camp. Laeta had to rush to catch him to keep up. His strides taking three of hers. As they walked through the camp, Spartacus paused at Laeta's tent, pointing towards it. "I see you once again relinquish your tent to the benefit of others."

"Others who need it more than I." Laeta pointed out, almost running into Spartacus' back due to his sudden stop. Spartacus turned to face Laeta again, peering down at her.

"I thought you fearful of sleeping in the open air?" Spartacus queried, somewhat curiously. Laeta's chin came up slightly in challenge. "One can endure much for the sake of those worthy of need." Spartacus half-smiled in acknowledgement of Laeta's comment. He turned and continue to walk, Laeta fast behind him.

Spartacus marched swiftly toward his large tent, entering it without pause. Laeta hesitated to enter for she had never been there at night. To be sure, she had been in his tent many times to discuss several matters, but she had never been there alone, there always seemed to be someone else around…Argon, Gannicus. Laeta paused at the doorway, still holding her cloak to her. Spartacus was on the far side of the tent, near the place where, clearly, he slept. He pulled a thick blanket from the bed, rolling it loosely, and he walked towards Laeta. It was when their eyes met, when it happened.

Spartacus paused as he folded the thick blanket over his arm, slightly stroking the soft fabric. It had been taken from a Roman villa they had invaded long ago. Mira had love it when she saw it, so when they left he took it. Unfortunately, there had never been chance given for Mira and him to enjoy it before her death, put for some reason he kept it. Spartacus looked into Laeta's eyes as she watched him bring such an obviously personal item to for her use. Laeta moved forward to meet him part of the way, Spartacus paused before her.

"Such an item of value, I cannot take from you." Laeta spoke softly, as she touched the blanket Spartacus held.

"It is of no value unless utilized by one who comprehends it value." Spartacus spoke almost in a whisper, as he looked down at the blanket as Laeta touched it. The words seem to hang in the air between them. Spartacus looked down at Laeta, her beautiful face burnished by the glow of the oil lamp. Her soft lips beckoned him, however he was unsure; he had declared to her he could not hold her to his heart since she was still a Roman; she had shared in kind her feelings that she was not after his heart. Laeta's hand paused very near Spartacus', seemingly hovering in place, unsure as well.

Spartacus gently took Laeta's hand into his own, and quietly stepped backwards, towards the bed the back of the tent. Laeta followed as Spartacus pulled her gently. The thick blanket tossed to the floor by Spartacus, Laeta watched as it landed with a thud next to the bed. Laeta looked back to Spartacus, curious and anxious at what would happen next. Laeta quietly rejoiced at the possibility of another interlude with the Bringer of Rain, a man like no other she had ever met.

Spartacus said nothing; he sat upon the bed, Laeta's hand in his. He reached up and untied the cloak he wore. It feel to the floor silently. He raised Laeta's hand to his lips, kissing it softly. Laeta's breath caught at the gentle action of his kiss, she turned palm against his cheek, stoking the rough beard ever present. Laeta leaned down and touched her soft, sensual lips to Spartacus. His responding kiss seemed to devour her as he pulled her between his legs, and held her body. His hands ran over her dress, up her legs to her buttocks, massaging. Laeta, no stranger to his armor, made quick work of unhooking and unbelting each piece, as Spartacus began running his hands under her dress now. The feeling of his hands on her bare skin was incredibly beautiful and gentle, not unlike their first time together, however this time it was going much slower. Spartacus seemed to be everywhere at once on Laeta's body, his hands continued to stoke underneath Laeta's dress. Laeta, awash with amazing emotions, could no longer stand, her knees buckled under Spartacus' administrations. Straddling his hips as Spartacus sat upon his bed; Laeta kissed him passionately, their tongues mating in an ancient rhythm only they could hear. Laeta's hands began to stroke Spartacus' back and head as he pulled the shoulder of Laeta's dress down, exposing a soft, warm breast, its nipple tight and aching to be touched. Spartacus ran his thumb over the nub, causing Laeta to moan in ecstasy. His lips quickly followed as he sucked and nipped at the bud, causing Laeta to lean back so he could gain access to the other breast.

Agron moved towards Spartacus' tent; he knew the man was up still, the oil lamps still burned. Agron had just come from night watch, and had noticed Laeta missing from her tent. Spartacus had asked Agron to watch over Laeta, for the Roman woman was innocent in the ways of many among the rebel camp, and some may seek to do her harm when his back was turned. Agron moved swiftly, almost entering the tent, but paused as he saw Spartacus and Laeta in each other's arms, in the throes of heavy passion. Agron smiled knowingly; as he turned away towards the tent he shared with his lover, Nasir.

Spartacus never saw Argon's approach, however as he began kissing up Laeta's neck, her dress now at her waist, he did see Argon retreating. It concerned Spartacus that Agron now knew of Laeta and him, causing him to pause as his hands treaded themselves into Laeta's red-gold hair. Laeta, sensing the change in Spartacus, paused as well, thinking Spartacus was having second thoughts about another encounter with her. She had no wish to be any trouble to the man. Spartacus' leaned his head gently against Laeta's collarbone, his breath hot against her skin, his hands continuing to stoke and tread through Laeta's hair. Laeta was unsure what to do; her hands paused in stoking Spartacus's back and came to rest lightly on his shoulders.

"Do not stop." Spartacus spoke, barely above a whisper, against Laeta's neck. Laeta stroked her hands from Spartacus' shoulders to his neck, massaging the muscles there and allowing his cheek to rest against her chest for a few moments.

"What would you have of me?" Laeta whispered back into Spartacus' ear still sensing his hesitation. Spartacus looked up to Laeta's eyes, stoking the lovely hair from her face, realizing he must answer her honestly.

"I would have you in my arms….to find comfort…for whatever time the gods will allow us…" Spartacus declared as he kissed Laeta's lips tenderly as he stood with Laeta's legs wrapped around his waist. The remainder of their clothing tossed to the wind as Spartacus slowly lowered himself and Laeta to his bed. That night their encounter was not the passionate, rushed kind of their first encounter, but slow, deliberate lovemaking, which granted them the time to savor each other. In the afterglow, much later in the evening, Laeta lay within Spartacus' arms, the blanket he had meant to give to her draped across them both. Laeta's eyes drifted slowly closed as Spartacus held her, drawing patterns upon her back as he looked to the ceiling, thinking. Laeta had no wish to invade his musings as they lay there. She was content to say nothing, but it was Spartacus who spoke first.

"You may stay here in my tent if you wish, as we press forward toward the mountains." It was an invitation, not a command. Laeta's head lifted and her chin lean upon her hand as she gazed at the Bringer of Rain.

"And what if I do not wish to?" Laeta spoke stubbornly, eyes sparkling. Spartacus, seeing the sparkle of challenge in Laeta's eyes, half smiled and chuckled softly at her stubbornness. Laeta, seeing her challenge had not shaken the Bringer of Rain, laughed softly as well as they both realized this had changed everything for both of them.

Yes, Laeta thought as she remembered all the times they had shared, not every night, but that had to be when it happened, when she became pregnant. And even if it was not the night, every time they were together afterward was as beautiful as the last.


	2. Chapter 2

Laeta sat next to the river, far from the others, as was her way, drinking the cool water from her cupped hands. Her thirst was insatiable. She could only surmise the child had something to do with it, as well as the long hours of walking. Agron was determined to get them to safety, and she believe he would. The landscaped had changed from the dry interiors of the Italian Alps, to lush forests. The temperature had dropped too, making the days comfortable, but the nights cooler than she was used to. Agron had informed her that they would press to the north, to a place within his homeland, east of the Rhine. Laeta had questioned his tactic, since she was fearful it was not far enough from the grip of Rome. Argon had assured her that his people, the Goths, would welcome them as victors when he tells of their tale and Spartacus' victories. She had to trust Argon would not put her or the others in danger. They had become something of an extended family, the thirty-five or so of them, as they traveled. For many of the first few nights after Spartacus' passing, the sharing of word seem inadequate. Most were content to just sit quietly around the fire and contemplate what it meant to be free. Slowly though, the pain started to subside, and it was the remaining children which brought many out of their solemn thoughts.

Too deep in thought of the days that had passed, Laeta did not hear Nasir approached quietly from behind.

"You have been quiet of late." Nasir spoke softly as he knelt beside Laeta, cupping his hands to drink from the river, glazing at the river as it flowed gently by. Laeta smiled a bit from the surprise Nasir had given her, but did not acknowledge his comment. Nasir wiped the water from his chin and glanced at Laeta. He noticed her paler than normal complexion, her weakened state concerned him.

"Are you unwell?" Nasir asked gently, placing a rough hand gently on Laeta's shoulder in concern. Laeta glanced at Nasir, wondering if he could divine her secret just by looking at her. Nasir was no medicos, but he was smart and understanding, he had learned much in the ways of healing while in Spartacus' army.

"I would not have you fall from this life in hopes of joining…..him…. in the afterlife. He would not have wanted that." Nasir spoke solemnly. It was no surprise to himself or Agron regarding Laeta's reaction to Spartacus' death. Agron had told him of their physical bond, both Nasir and Argon had seen the respect, and gentle care both Spartacus and Laeta had shown each other in the final weeks of conflict. Nasir knew it bolstered Argon's heart to know Spartacus knew some comfort in those days, even smiling occasionally at Laeta verbal jousts at him. It lifted all of their spirits to see the Bringer of Rain soul bear the briefest moment of light upon this world.

Laeta watched the emotions play over Nasir's face as he knelt silently, concern clouding his eyes as he waited for Laeta to speak. Laeta knew it would only be a matter of time before they would know. Perhaps it was time to give life to her suspicions.

"No. I am not unwell." Laeta spoke softly as she rearranged the folds of her dress, picking at the worn fabric. So long ago, she had dozens of fine dresses and jewelry. Something she no longer desired, however she would have given all, and including the child, she suspected growing within her, to have Spartacus alive once again. The thought made her pause as she considered the trade she had just voiced in her mind. With a heavy sigh, she looked solemnly at Nasir.

"I am not sure, but, my suspicions tell me that Spartacus' child grows within me during two moons since our parting." Laeta spoke softly as her hand touched her belly in tenderness. Nasir did not have words. He knew it should be a joyous moment, but a feeling of loss overwhelmed him. Nasir's half-smiling lips trembled with emotions as he nodded in acknowledgement of Laeta's admission.

"If only I had suspected sooner, I may have been able to give voice, so he….may have known." Laeta could no longer hold her emotions within her, and she sobbed softly. Nasir rose, his arms wrapped around Laeta's shoulders as she sobbed quietly. It was how Agron, growing concerned for Nasir and Laeta' absence, found them by the river.

Agron paused as he watched Nasir comfort Laeta. His footsteps on the ground gave voice to his approach, and Nasir glanced over his shoulder at his lover, his eyes pleading him for assistance. Agron, growing concern that something had happened, rushed to Nasir and Laeta.

"What has happened?!" Agron exclaimed as he watched Nasir shake his head in denial as Laeta looked up at Agron with tear-stained cheeks. Agron had a growing respect for the Roman woman who continued to support their cause of freedom even after Spartacus' death. She could have easily returned to the arms of Roman, claiming capture by the rebels, and returned to her old life. Yet she had stayed with them, silently mourning the loss of their leader, her lover. As they had traveled north, she had asked him of his homeland and he had described it in great detail. Their conversations had grown friendly and light, the farther they traveled.

"All is well." Nasir spoke kindly, "Laeta has been blessed with a great gift from the gods." Agron looked questioningly at Nasir as Laeta's sobs subsided.

"Spartacus' child grows within her." Nasir announced to Agron, whose face flashed moments of joy and anguish at the knowledge. Agron's eyes filled with emotion; dropping to his knees before Laeta, he softly touched her belly in reverence. Laeta covered Agron's hand in simple acknowledgement as a smile joined the tears on her face.

"Are you sure?" Agron asked. Laeta, finally confident in her suspicions, nodded in the affirmative. "Why did not tell us sooner?" Agron asked as he stared at her now flat abdomen.

"I was fearful it was just wishful thinking on my part. I did not want to give false hopes to any among us, for I did not believe our souls could take such bitter disappointment if it was untrue." Laeta acknowledged.

Agron laughed and sobbed at the same moment as he stood facing both Nasir and Laeta. He looked towards the sky in silent rage.

"Could the gods be so cruel? To take the man from grasp, only to be returned to us as an innocent babe." Agron shook his head in amazement and fear.

"If Rome where to discover Spartacus' child lived, they would move heaven and earth to secure his death." Laeta voiced her deepest fear to Agron and Nasir, gripping both of their hands in silent pleading.

"We must agree to never acknowledge the child as his." Agron announced solemnly. "I will claim the child as my own. Nasir, loving uncle." Agron smiled at Laeta as she nodded in agreement to the plan. Laeta knew she would be safe with these two men, and it would be as Spartacus would have wished for his only child.

The weeks and months passed of the small group of survivors. As promised, they gained entrance into Argon's homeland, and had settled a small grove as their own just outside a medium sized town the Goth's had established. It took many weeks and lots of conversation, but Agron had convinced the town's elders they were of no threat. As they had journeyed towards the north, and was decided it would be better to remain anonymous regarding their involvement with the rebel army. It would grant them time to escape if Rome ventured to the area, and less anyone knew about them, the less likely they could be used as a trade-off to the Romans if they invaded.

Agron had been established as the leader of the group, although the burden of leadership was shared by Nasir who gladly held second in command. The town assumed that Nasir & Sybil were brother and sister to Agron. Given Laeta's condition, many within the town assumed Laeta was wife to Agron, although many noted a lack of physical intimacy between them, only a kind of kinship, although Agron seemed genuinely excited about the birth of Laeta's coming child.

Agron had no knowledge of farming or shepherding, but most of the others had some knowledge and Laeta was good a negotiating. It was hard work in the beginning, establishing a new life, but the joy of freedom and the ever-present fear of Rome's eventual arrival, kept them vigilant and working hard to survive.

Laeta's time came deep in the heart of winter. The birth was long and arduous, and Agron feared for Laeta's life as she struggled. Nasir and Sybil attended and assisted in the birth as well, with Agron nervously providing encouragement. As Laeta struggled, her strength ebbed and flowed as she pushed forth a new life. In a moment of pause, she lay back, heaving with breath, fraught with concern about the life of her child….his child. She prayed for strength to complete the task, even if it meant her life, she would do it for him….for all that he had given, she could do nothing less. The waves of pain gripped her over and over, and she screamed through gritted teeth, determined to give life to Spartacus' child. Drenched in sweat and lagging is strength, Laeta once again feared she would fail. The pain was too much; weakness began to overtake her body and mind. She fell backward into awaiting arms. Laeta's vision blurred and refocused on the face floating before her. It was his face; his arms that held her in that moment of exhaustion. His eyes bright and intense upon her weakened pallor, she reached up a pale, fragile hand to his beard-covered cheek.

"Spartacus." She spoke breathlessly.

"I am here. " His voice echoed as if from a faraway place, his image an apparition of days long past, his eyes filled with concern and joy as he spoke gently and held Laeta.

"I cannot….I cannot do this...any longer." Laeta whispered desperately, clinging to strong arms that held her. "I don't want to survive without you." Laeta pleaded.

"You must, Laeta. You must give life to our child." Spartacus face began to fade from Laeta's vision and she struggled to reach out to him. Spartacus leaned in close to Laeta, and softly kissed her forehead in reverence.

"Survive….so our son may live free." Laeta strength seem to return to her as his image faded from sight.

"Our son…..our son…" Laeta whispered repeatedly. The arms holding her were of the midwife called upon to assist in the birth. She had heard the name Laeta hand whispered in her fevered state. With renewed strength, she pushed forth repeatedly the son she and Spartacus had formed through tragic circumstances. She prayed again and again as the pain increased more and more. Spartacus' words echoed in her mind repeatedly. "Survive…..so our son may live free."

"He will live free." Laeta spoke through gritted teeth as with a final push, the babe came forth from her body and into an uncertain world. Nasir exclaimed in joy "It is a boy!" Agron cried tears of joy as the he listen to the child announce his arrival, loud and strong.

"I know." Laeta whispered as she lay against the midwife watching as the child was cut from its tether within her womb and cleaned gently. Nasir passed the softly crying child to Agron, who was closest to Laeta. Agron examined the child irreverently; bringing him to Laeta's waiting arms. The child's cries quieted almost immediately when he was placed in loving mother's arms. The babe's downy head covered in a dusting of hair, his arms kicking out in protest of being free of mother's womb. Laeta smiled down at her son, suddenly realizing she did not know what she was to name him, for she did not know Spartacus' true name. As her brow furrowed in concern of this seemingly small matter, the others around them rejoiced in the child's successful birth. The midwife gathered her things and moved towards the door, when Agron blocked her way.

"I would speak of what was heard this night." Agron commanded gravely. The midwife nodded in acknowledgement to the fierce warrior. She turned her stoop form to stand squarely to face him, in apparent defiance.

"If you seek to kill me in order to silence what I have gained knowledge of this night, have no fear, your secret is safe." Agron stood silently as the old woman continued. "I knew the woman was not your wife in truth, but in name only. However, the reasons were unclear. It is obvious there is great love for the child borne this night, and it is obvious that love is born from a love for its father, who is not of this world any longer." Agron went to speak, but the woman held up her hand to silence him.

"Speak nothing to me. The less I know, the better it will be for all. The name Spartacus will never be mentioned again in my presence, for it is a curse upon those who speak it." She looked over at Laeta, whose eyes had drifted shut in seemingly prayer as she held her son. "She holds a great gift from the gods which will need to be protected. The child should live free as the father would have wished." The midwife ducked under Agron's outstretched arm and left the building without another word. Agron knew only time would tell if the knowledge she had gained would require action on his part.

Laeta held her son gently as she thanked the gods for this blessing. As she prayed, she felt a glorious emotion sweep through her as a name came forth in her mind on the sound of Spartacus' voice. Laeta's eyes popped open in surprise. She was not sure this was his name, but the feeling of joy and emotion told her it was the right name. She smiled brightly down at the babe in her arms again, finding no greater joy than seeing the babe's eyes drift closed in dreamy slumber in her arms.

Agron returned to Laeta's side, watching the child drift asleep. "You should rest now."

"Lysander." Laeta looked at Agron, then Nasir across the room. "His name is Lysander." Both Nasir and Agron knew it was a statement and a declaration of both the child's name and the true name of his father. Agron stroked the child's downy head in amazement, and nodded.

"Lysander. It is a good name for a free man." Laeta smiled gently as she knew her son would always have loving hands around to guide him through life, even when she was no longer of this world.


	3. Chapter 3

The first few weeks of a newborn's life are fraught with peril in turbulent times. During those times, the most innocent were the most vulnerable to death and disease. Laeta fretted over Lysander's health and safety those first few weeks. She could not bear the idea of losing him to fever or mishap.

However, her fears were unfounded, for Lysander proved to be as resilient as his father had been resourceful. It would only be a matter of time before she would know just how much like his father he would be. At this point, like his father, he commanded the attention of all within any room he entered. Laeta fashioned a sling to be able to keep him close to her for his first month of life. As the weeks moved forward, she would relinquish him to the care of Sybil. Even Nasir and Agron took opportunities to fuss over the boy.

The weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years. Lysander developed into a precocious toddler, who found ways to vex his mother she had not known were possible. He formed words quickly and soon identified those around him by name. While Laeta was undoubtedly his mother, Agron, Nasir, nor Laeta wished for Lysander to not know his father. However, they had to come up with a story to tell him, one that would allow them to share their love and respect of Spartacus with his only son, but also protect the boy, who would innocently and easily slip and tell the world the truth of who his father was, if he were to be told the truth.

And so it was. They discussed their plan for their story, ensuring they were clear in its simplicity; for this lie must last until it was time to tell Lysander the truth when he was matured to a man. Only then could they tell him. Laeta agonized over the damage their lie might cause, especially if they intended to tell him the truth in the future.

"Perhaps we will never find cause to tell him the truth." Agron volunteered. Laeta only half-heartedly laughed at his suggestion.

"And how with that be? Will you not teach him the ways of battle and sword? With the two of you to guide him, he will without doubt become like all men, thirsty for war and conflict. A mortal wound which haunts every mother's heart knowing one day her son will long for such." Laeta spoke forcefully to Nasir and Agron, her eyes striking at them both. She took a deep breath to calm herself, glancing at the boy who played quietly with wooden toys Nasir had fashioned for him. "But that dawn is far from this day. I would have us agree to this tale, if only to protect him." Agron and Nasir nodded in agreement, as they set forth on this path.

As expected, Lysander grew quickly and the days sweep up in the rapid clock of time. Laeta and Nasir both worked diligent to teach Lysander his letters, numbers, reading, and history. Agron and Nasir also took on the responsibility of beginning to train Lysander in the use of sword, shield, and pike. Lysander, like his father excelled at all, demonstrating an affinity for the use of two swords. He proved to be apt pupil under their tutelage. He was quick with a witty remark or quip in response to an insult, much like his mother's ability with verbal barbs, but equally lethal when his anger was roused. A lanky young man, he was much admired by many of the young women from the surrounding areas. More than once Agron had to pull Lysander from a compromising position before a young woman's father was upon them both.

As the lank of youth evolved to the strength and muscle of a man, Laeta noticed Lysander less and less favored her golden coloring. His hair had turned from a reddish-golden color to a darkened blonde due to years of sword practice in the sun. His eyes a deeper blue-green than her own. Even as his voice deepened, she began to hear HIS voice. At times, it was more to bear.

On many occasion, Laeta sat and watched Nasir and Agron teach Lysander the ways of combat. Laeta quietly sat as she watched, Agron walking over, sitting next to him, staring at the young boy now a man. Agron stared forward as he spoke to Laeta.

"He talks of joining the Goth auxiliary." Agron looked over his shoulder to Laeta, who paused in her work, to stare first at Agron, then to her son as he japed and swiped at Nasir seriously.

"His friends are joining as well. Lysander is anxious to join them." Agron continued.

"Of course he does, they are his friends. And you have trained him well to thirst for war." Laeta spoke accusingly. Laeta's heart clinched as she realized the time had come to tell Lysander the truth. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she rejoiced in knowing that their collective lie would end.

"The lie ends tonight then." Laeta stated somberly. Agron nodded and walked back to Lysander and Nasir. Laeta walked away searching for some clarity to the purpose the gods had set her upon.

The hilltop was the place she came when she needed time to think. It was a place she had found which was high enough that she could see the Alps far off in the distance, and on a clear day, just a sliver of the Italian peninsula. She would imagine she could see his resting place, Agron's shield resting as silent sentinel. She sat upon the wooden seat she had brought up her to sit upon over the years. A little more than a year after Lysander birth, Laeta brought Lysander to this place. She placed him on her knee, facing him toward the place she remembered for its joy and heartbreak. Back then, Lysander would coo and giggle as she bounced him about in a mother's enjoyment of her son. How she had wished in those moments that Spartacus was there with her. She would imagine him holding Lysander in pride and love, looking to her with gratitude and caring.

Now she sat rewinding the moments in her life since she encountered Spartacus and his rebel army. Times she had wished for his fall from victory, all the way to her prayer of his triumph over Crassus and Rome. Her eyes drifted shut, as she was want to do when she remembered her lover, Spartacus. Their time was so brief together, but the moments were etched deeply in her memory, none more so than the one the night before the final battle.

Laeta's neck, arm and back muscles ached from the weaving of stiff wooden tree limbs into mats to cover the deep drench Spartacus and his men had dug. Everyone was tasked to assist. The children gathered limbs as they were hacked off and divided by size. Laeta had suggested the use of the children to provide some sort of activity for them to be part of the rebellion. Laeta recalled watching Spartacus himself show the children what and how task of sorting and gathering of the limbs was to be done. It became quite a game to see who could draw the approval of the Bringer of Rain. Spartacus clearly enjoyed the children's efforts to be part of the rebellion, while still ensuring they were far from harm's way. He praised each child individually, even if they did not do as much as some of the others. It was a common sight for Spartacus to take interest in the children, especially now that Laeta had become more involved in their welfare. He knew many by name, but there were so many, even he begged for mercy when Laeta quizzed him. So many, he would often comment to Laeta. So many fatherless and motherless children who deserved none of what fate had handed them. Laeta knew it weighted heavily on Spartacus' shoulders. She often thought Spartacus would be a wonderful father. He was caring, patient, yet commanded with respect.

Laeta entered the tent she now shared with Spartacus. Most nights, Laeta would fall exhausted onto the sleeping platform at the back of the tent. Typically, Spartacus would quietly join her late in the evening. By morning, Laeta would awaken curled up against Spartacus' side, or his arm draped around her waist, clutching her body up against his own. She would quietly rise at those times, determined not to disturb him, for she was unaware of when he finally allowed sleep to claim him.

Laeta walked toward the bed, but decided to sit at the table where all the maps and battle plans lay. She peered curiously across all the maps. She noticed another map, seemingly new and unused beneath all the careworn others. She slid it out from underneath the others, reading the name scrawled across the land markings. _Thracia. _She had heard of the place, she knew Spartacus hailed from the region. Laeta ran her fingers over the name softly, while rubbing the muscles of her neck with the other. Perhaps this is where Spartacus intents to take them, Laeta thought. But she dismissed the thought; Spartacus could not return to his homeland, they would surely look for them there. Them. Us. Concepts that just a few weeks ago, Laeta would have laughed at. The thought of her, a Roman woman, seeking refuge and solace in the arms of Spartacus. A smile broke her lips as she remembered their first meeting in her now-dead husband's grain market. She was not one to openly flirt with another man, but even then, Spartacus made an impressive impression. Something deep within her had told her to be wary of the man, but another part pulled her closer.

The memories flooded back as Laeta reached back to pull her hair over her shoulder and gain access to the rest of her sore muscles. She closed her eyes in heartbreak, knowing tomorrow they would part ways, perhaps forever and the smile faded from her lips.

"What thoughts cause such happiness to fade from your lips?" Spartacus asked as his hands took the place of Laeta's, massaging her neck and shoulder muscles. Laeta had heard someone come in, but it was too early for Spartacus and with so much to do, she assumed it was someone else other than the man himself. Laeta's eyes opened, as she glance over her shoulder at the Bringer of Rain. A curious and caring smile upon his face, causing a dimple to be defined beneath his rough beard, met her gaze as his hands continued their administrations. Laeta turned back forward, allowing herself to enjoy his presence and loving hands.

"I was thinking of our first meeting. In the grain market. In Sinuessa." Laeta spoke honestly to him as chills of pleasure ran up and down her spine. Feeling the shivers upon her body, Spartacus leaned down, his mouth a whisper from her ear and bar neck exposed by her hair being pulled to one side.

"And what was your impression of our first meeting?" Spartacus whispered his hot breath soft against her neck.

"Anticipation." Laeta spoke breathlessly as Spartacus' lips followed where his hands had just been. He smiled softly as her breath caught as his hand moved the strap of her dress off her shoulder, nipping at the flesh exposed. Laeta turned her head towards Spartacus, her lips seeking his. Their lips meet softly as they deepen the kiss slowly. Laeta's hand tenderly caresses Spartacus' cheek, as their foreheads meet, their breaths mingling in the night air. The map catches Spartacus' eye, and he turns toward it, bringing Laeta with him.

"Would you return to Thrace when you are triumphant?" Laeta asked softly as Spartacus gazed intensely at the map of this homeland. Spartacus face split in a full smile, glancing back at Laeta's soft, caring gaze.

"Do you pierce the veil of the future to divine our future?" Spartacus asked he stroked Laeta's cheek.

"No, but I hope that my prophecy bears truth." Laeta spoke sincerely. Spartacus nods in acknowledgement, but not in agreement, his smile fading slowly.

"Come. Tomorrow we part ways. I would have this night be worthy of your memory long after you pass into your elder years."

"And I would wish the same for you." Laeta responded as Spartacus took her hand as he led Laeta out of the tent and away from the camp. He passed by Agron, nodding in acknowledgement. Laeta ducked her head in modesty, but knew Agron was more than aware of her physical relationship with Spartacus.

"Where are we going?" Laeta asked as they walked, hand in hand, leaving the camp behind. Spartacus said nothing, only smiled as they finally reached their destination. Spartacus gingerly made his way down between the boulders and stones that created an enclosed space. Laeta hear the water before she saw it. She looked down as the journeyed down towards the sound to a shallow pool where the nearby river had split off to create a small lagoon. It was the most beautiful place she had ever seen and a worthy place to make a memory to last her a lifetime.


	4. Chapter 4

Laeta was unsure exactly what was happening as Spartacus led her down to the shallow pool. He clearly had his mind set to purpose and was eager; however, Laeta did not have any clue. A few times as she stumbled as they walked briskly towards the water, and he turned with a concerned look, only for his face to break out in a sly smile. Oh yes, he has set his mind to purpose, Laeta thought to herself. Her skin tingled with anticipation for what would happen next.

Spartacus paused looking over the quiet place. He had found it while out hunting for game and taken note of its secluded location. One thing about a rebel camp, there was little privacy, and although he and Laeta had tried to be discrete with their relationship, it was not long before whispers could be heard. Even Gannicus, with his sometimes lascivious with the women, had questioned Spartacus regarding the rumors. None in the camp dare question Spartacus' decision to take a lover, but Laeta was a Roman.

"Is it wise to pursue such an entanglement?" Gannicus asked gingerly, recognizing his own behavior in the past not beyond reproach.

"Are my affairs so keenly noted?" Spartacus asked as Gannicus, slightly annoyed, as he peered at the map on the table before him, contemplating their next move. His mind drifted to Laeta in that moment, if rumors swirled about the camp, he wondered what would be or could be said in Laeta in his absence. He smiled inwardly as he realized he was considering Laeta, with her sharp tongue and quick wit. She could handle herself without him, much like his wife. The last thought brought him to pause as he considered many things about his new lover that reminded him of his wife. Lost in thought, he did not hear Gannicus continue speaking.

"…they do not take any issue with a lover; I believe it is in the choice. She is a Roman." Gannicus sipped from the cup of wine he was holding.

"Yes. She is a Roman." Spartacus answered as he walked to the opening of the tent, peering out over the camp. Laeta, in her red gown, could be easily spotted among the children, trying to herd them into one direction. "But like no other." Spartacus whispered as he watched her move along, smiling and chatting with each child as the excitingly engaged her company. He turned back into the tent, facing Gannicus squarely.

"Laeta is an asset to his army. She understands Rome, not as a slave, but as a citizen of privilege. Was she not valuable in the attempted capture of Crassus? Helping those who were to march into the belly of the beast to pretend to be Pompey's envoys be prepared on how to respond to Crassus?" Spartacus pointed out to Gannicus.

"Yes, but..." Gannicus tried to continue the discussion, when Spartacus cut him off.

"I will hear no more of this." Spartacus stated blankly as he moved to the table with the maps. "Have we had any word on the movements of Crassus' legions?"

That was the last time he heard anyone speak of questioning his relationship with Laeta. Undoubtbly, others around his tent in the camp heard the exchanged. News travels fast upon the wind of a rebel camp. Later Spartacus considered the fact that Gannicus may have brought the topic to bare to ensure the discussion was heard and the rumors squelched. The thought made Spartacus once again chuckle at the absurdity of all that had happened.

Laeta, standing by the water's edge, dipped her foot into the water to test the temperature. The water was refreshingly chilled, and she yearned to immerse herself to obtain a proper bath.

It was then as she noticed Spartacus removing his chin guards and shoulder armor, with some difficulty. She walked to him to assist with the buckles in the back.

"Gratitude." He stated as she moved the buckles and helped him remove the layers of armor from his body.  
"You have become quite good at this." Spartacus noted with a devilish grin causing a dimple to present itself on his bearded cheek.

"One can become quite adept at such with enough practice." Laeta noted, blushing slightly as she continued with the other buckets on his back. Spartacus turned slightly as the she removed the other leather shoulder plate, noticing her blush.

"A blush upon cheek? I would not have thought a Roman would have such human emotion?" Spartacus teased lightly, brushing his fingertip along her soft pink cheek. Not to be out witted in a sparing of words, Laeta smiled coyly.

"And I would not have thought a Thracian capable of any human emotion." Laeta smarted back, chin tilted up in challenge. Spartacus mockingly slammed his hand across his chest as if hit by a mortal blow and stumbled back up against to the rock wall behind him.

"Such forked tongue has dealt yet another mortal blow." Laeta smiled at his antics. It was their way together; Spartacus loved to goad her into sharp rebuke, only to not so secretly enjoy her verbal jabs and barbs she threw in response to his badgering.

Spartacus, having removed all his armor except of his subligaculum, he pushed from the wall where he continued to lean in feign attempt to fend off any further attack. He moved to Laeta, his hand reaching for a lock of her red-gold hair, toying with it. "I know of a much better use for such a tongue." Spartacus spoke looking directly into Laeta's eyes as he spoke his challenge.

Spartacus had said they were going to make a memory worthy of remembrance long into her elder years, and Laeta was thinking this was definitely a wondrous start. Laeta moved closer to Spartacus, her lips hovering over his as their breaths mingled in the late evening shadows. Spartacus's fingertips ran up Laeta's arms in feather-light caresses, lingering on the shoulder straps of her dress. Spartacus fingered the once delicate and fine stitches that were not frayed and worn from traveling and rough work Laeta had done in the past weeks; yet, she had never complained, to him at least. She had endured much, and much of what she had endured due to his actions. He was wrong to think her naïve of the betrayal and suffering of being a slave. He had considered early on regarding Laeta's situation. Was it worse to never know freedom, or like himself, know what it is to be free and then have it taken from you?

"You should have more than this tattered dress to wear." Spartacus noted as he continued to stroke the once fine detail of the dress. Laeta, anxious for his touch, lightly touched his bare chest in encouragement.

"I have no need for fine things." Laeta explained, their foreheads touching, each leaning to the other in need. "They are just things to cage and trap a woman to believing she is free. I would rather have one tattered dress and know I am free to choose my own way, than have 1000 fine gowns and be at the whim of another." Laeta spoke from her heart, gazing intently into Spartacus deep green eyes. Laeta kissed him deeply at that moment.

"Gratitude." Laeta spoke breathlessly, "For opening my eyes and making me see." These same words were spoken from Crixus before he and Spartacus had parted ways. The memory of losing his beloved brother clinched his heart as he heard the same words from Laeta. He prayed silently that her life would not end the same as Crixus.

Spartacus pulled away, removing his final piece of clothing. Laeta, somewhat confused, watched as he waded into the water. The water only came to his waist as he walked father out, then dove under. Spartacus came back up with a splash.

"Remove clothing. And join me." Spartacus stated leaning back in the water and paddling about in careless abandon. Laeta looked nervously at the water, watching Spartacus swim effortless through the rippling water. How she wanted to join him, but could not. Realizing she had not joined him yet, or made a move to take her dress off, Spartacus paused in his enjoyment of the pool.

"Why do you hover a water's edge? Come in. There is no one about, Agron has assured me." Spartacus spoke assuming she was nervous they would be caught together.

"I do not worry about being caught. I…" Laeta stuttered, looking nervously at the water.

"The mighty Laeta, a loss for words?" Spartacus jokingly stated as he moved toward Laeta, suddenly noticing the real fear in her eyes as she looked at the water. He paused and rose to stand on the bottom of the pool, the water at his waist.

"You fear the water?" Spartacus stated as he walked out in all his naked glory to stand before Laeta, his wet body and hand wetting Laeta's dress.

"Water in a bath, no." Laeta noted quietly, "I never given opportunity to learn to swim, as you just did." Laeta pointed to where Spartacus had just carelessly paddled and drove in the water like a merman. Spartacus had never considered this when he had made his plan for this evening. Spartacus smiled and tilted Laeta's chin up to look into her eyes.

"Have no fear. I shall teach you this night." Spartacus smiled. Laeta, unconvinced her could do so, gave protest.

"The sun almost sets. It will dark soon, we will not be able to see properly for such instruction." Laeta protested.

Spartacus held up one finger in motion for Laeta to wait a moment. He silently walked to near the water's edge, to a place where it appeared a stack of wood had been placed. Spartacus knelt and swiftly started a large enough fire to illuminate the entire enclosed area. Spartacus, satisfied with his work, bounded down back to Laeta.

"Enough light to ensure Jupiter himself is aware of our presence." Spartacus teased Laeta as he held her close.

"Now, since this is you only dress….." Spartacus spoke as he pulled the strap of one shoulder down, "…I would not see if dampened further…" Spartacus pulled the second strap of Laeta's other shoulder, "…I must ensure…" The dress fell to Laeta's waist, "…that you are able to swim, before this night can end." The dress pooled softly at Laeta's feet. Laeta silently prayed that she would never learn to swim and this night would never end. Spartacus lifted Laeta into his arms and started forward into the water. Laeta in panic wrapped her arms tightly around Spartacus' neck.

"By the end of this night, I shall have you swimming like you are a maid of sea called forth by Poseidon himself." Spartacus spoke reassuringly. The water touched Laeta's naked bottom and it shocked her. Spartacus laughed at her antics and soothingly told her to relax in his arms.

"You ask the impossible! When you are frightened out of your mind!" Laeta excitedly exclaimed as Spartacus lowered himself and Laeta fully into the water. The temperature was shocking, but so refreshing, Laeta gasped loudly. She held onto Spartacus tightly, but slowly, in his arms she began to relax. Eventually, Spartacus allowed Laeta to stand on her own, although she kept her arms wrapped about his neck. Then she slowly move away from him and gingerly swim as he began to show her how. Much sputtering and coughing was incurred on Laeta's attempt to swim, but Spartacus was always there to assist her and reassure her that she was ok and to try again. After about an hour, it seemed Laeta's fear of the water had disappeared, and she and Spartacus frolicked and played in the water like children.

At one point, Laeta had jumped on Spartacus' back in mock attempt to bring him down into the water. His strength and size were no match for her, but he indulged her by faking a fall into the water. Under the water, Spartacus rolled over and rose out of the water with a laugh so genuine; his beauty took Laeta aback.

Laeta moved towards Spartacus, wrapping her arms around his neck, and began kissing him softly.

"I do believe this is the cleanest I have ever seen you." Laeta commented, kissing his lips and running her hands over his muscular shoulders and arms. Spartacus smiled softly at the comment and deepened the kiss.

"Gratitude. For teaching me to swim." Laeta whispered against Spartacus' lips. No words were spoken after that. Their kissing grew intense and forceful. It reminded Laeta of their first night together. Yet, there was a certain tenderness, both were want to show; it was a strange mixture of heated desire, yet passionate longing.

Spartacus drew Laeta to the side of the pool where a ledge naturally occurred. He sat upon the ledge and drew astride his thighs. Spartacus molded Laeta's body against his as he drew each of her soft, warm breasts into his palm. Massaging and kneading each globe, bringing each hardened tip to his mouth made Laeta moan in ecstasy. Laeta reached between them and took Spartacus' hardened erection in her hand, stroking it with experienced hands. Not wanting to wait any longer, Spartacus moved Laeta into his shaft and plunged into her heated depths. The feeling was wondrous as Laeta's inner walls tightened around Spartacus is silent need, drawing him deeper into her. Over and over, Spartacus thrust upward into Laeta with primordial need. Spartacus ran his hands up Laeta's back and over her shoulders, bringing her down onto his cock harder and harder. The feelings were intense, liquefying Laeta to the core as she succumb to wave after wave of orgasm. At the same moment, Spartacus spilled his seed within Laeta, speaking her name through gritting teeth as he continued to react to the powerful reaction to their lovemaking.

Minutes drifted by and Laeta was the first to move. Spartacus' head lay upon Laeta's chest as its heaving subsided. Spartacus held her to prevent her from leaving his embrace. Spartacus turned his head and softly, reverently kissed the place over her heart, looking upward to Laeta's face after. There were no words that needed to be spoken between them.

Laeta moved back out of his embrace, but pulling Spartacus with her towards the water's edge. The slope at the water's edge was covered in fine sand from the river. With her back to Spartacus, Laeta began to rise from the water. Spartacus had other ideas.

He stopped Laeta from exiting the water completely. He knew that the rocks were no place for them to continue what they had already started. And he intended to continue…for a much longer period of time than the first time…for this may be the last time they would have together…

As Laeta sat on the bench, 20 years later, remembering that night. As promised, they had created a memory that would last her into her elder years. It had sustained her on cold and warm nights when her empty bed was a cruel reminder of what she had lost. However, her son, Lysander had been what she had gained through that loss. And now, he would know the truth of who is father was. No more lies. Her heart clinched in fear of what she must do.


	5. Chapter 5

Laeta walked the worn narrow path down to the small village she had lived in for the past 20 years. It had grown a lot since their arrival, but her home was set off away from the others.

The home had started out as just a tent, and slowly Nasir, Agron and herself had built a stone building to ensure its security and safe given Lysander's arrival into this world. Agron had seen to it that a hiding spot was constructed in the ground to allow them to hide if the Romans arrived. He had added onto the structure over the years, making it larger and more impregnable. It was a fine home for them. She had always been grateful for Agron loyalty to her and Lysander. Agron, early on, lamented his injuries from his crucifixion would never allow him to fully recover all his battle skills. As the years had passed, he had not so quietly settled into a life of a farmer and tradesman. As Lysander grew though, Argon had taken great joy in the boy's education and well-being. Agron was a wonderful replacement for his true father, although Agron wished it were not so.

Laeta made her way to the stone structure she and Lysander called home. As she walked closer, she heard his laugh. Her son's laugh was deep and strong. It made her smile to hear his happiness, for she knew it might be a very long time before she heard it again. War was coming, and Laeta knew all too well, what that meant.

As she rounded the corner of her home, she saw her son standing with his friends, laughing and drinking. His friends saw her first and quickly quieted their conversation, undoubtbly regarding some latest female conquest of Lysander's, Laeta thought as they seem to correct their stances in order to greet her. Lysander, seeing the change in his companions, turned towards her approach. Laeta looked to his eyes and saw his father there once again. It always took her breath when he looked at her a certain way. Lysander, seeing his mother approaching, turned fully to her, a broad smile on his face. Laeta watched as the same dimples on his cheeks appeared as his father's. A tightness gripped her chest. He was dressed in full battle gear, a green and gray cloak draped across the back, a sword at side, a dagger tucked in at his waist. A striking figure he presented.

"Mother! I am glad you finally chose to come down off high to greet me before I leave." Lysander embraced his mother joyfully, commenting on Laeta's habit of climbing the hill often over the years to seek solace. "Have the gods given you assurances that I will be safe amongst my brothers?" Lysander teased, given the hills considerable height and his mother's advanced age, he often marveled at her ability to still climb the hill.

Laeta smiled at her son as he teased her regarding her habits. She never told Lysander of her true reasons of going up that hill, and she only took him up there once, when he was a babe. "I would have words with you Lysander. Upon yonder hill." Her request came out more harshly than intended, but she must speak with him alone and away from the others. Lysander's smile faded at his mother's harsher than normal tone. He watched as she entered the home had shared with her and his uncles his entire life. A few moments later she exited with a bundle held close to her chest, she gave him a look that gave him no quarter but to comply with her command. Lysander turned to his friends and with a lopsided grin, followed his mother back up the hill from where she had just come.

Laeta had reached the top of the hill more quickly than Lysander had, however local girls who wished to see him off properly had detained him several times. He had teased and explained he had pressing matters with his mother, but he would return later to accept their offers. Laeta stood looking over the mountains, the bundle she held place on the bench behind her.

Lysander attaining the top of the hill finally spoke breathlessly from the climb he had just completed.

"You are still fleet of foot for a woman of advanced years to attain such lofty heights so quickly." He jokingly smiled as she continued to peer out towards the mountains.

"Perhaps my journey was easier since I am not weighted down by the implements of war and battle." Laeta spoke quietly, looking back at her son, looking pointedly at the sword and armor wore.

"Mother, please. We have spoken of this…." Lysander knew of his mother's abhorrence of war and sword.

"Yes, we have. And I am not here to try to dissway you from the path you have chosen." Laeta saw the relief wash over her son's face that he would not have to argue his points of joining the campaign to his mother once again. "Yet, I would have you know…" Laeta paused, as she turned back towards the mountains far off in the distance, the sliver of the Italy just barely visible. She closed her eyes to take a deep breath and imagine she could see his grave, so far away from this place.

"Have me know what?" Lysander spoke as he walked to his mother's side, looking towards the place she looked so longingly at.

"Look out there. What do you see?" Laeta asked softly, gesturing to the place where she wished things had not ended as they had.

"The mountains?" Lysander spoke curiously.

"And beyond that?" Laeta queried.

"Beyond the mountains, is Rome's empire." Lysander spoke honestly. "Can you see it from here?" Laeta asked.

"I suppose. Just a bit." Lysander was becoming more confused as the time went by. Laeta turned to her son, and took a deep breath.

"Agron and Nasir are not your uncles. And I am not of the Goths." Laeta spoke the easiest truth first. Lysander laughed heartedly and smiled.

"Mother, I knew that. It is obvious Agron and Nasir are together, as much as they tried to hide it from me. And you, I knew you weren't from this place, you coloring and speech was always different. Even as a boy of 10, I knew this. But it does not matter to me."

"I'm Roman, Lysander. Cast from the republic as a traitor." Laeta spoke her lips shaking as she spoke the words she had not spoken since the day of the games to Spartacus. Lysander eyes widened in shock, but softened in empathy.

"Why would they cast you, my gentle and loving mother, from the republic? What crime did you commit to deserve such?" Laeta went to speak, but Lysander cut her off. "It does not matter. I understand why did not tell me. But it does not matter to me."

"I was cast from the republic for being part of a rebellion…..a slave rebellion. Your uncles as well, although they were not citizens of Rome….they were slaves." Laeta spoke in earnest, trying to tell Lysander the truth.

"Slave rebellion? Like the one that Spartacus led?"

"Not like the one he led…I was part of that rebellion, the same for Agron and Nasir. Sybil too. Many of us whom you grew up with as well" Lysander moved away from Laeta, contemplating what he was just told. Lysander paused and turned towards Laeta, as a question formed in his mind at these revelations.

"And what of my father? Was he too of the rebellion?" Lysander, his mind sharp as a whip, connecting the realities of the truth being revealed to him. Laeta was unable to speak, fearing her son's reaction at both her and Agron for lying to him.

"Your eyes tell me it is so." Lysander spoke with distain. "So what is the truth, Mother?" Lysander demanded, yelling in a voice Laeta had not heard directed at her ever in her life.

"You father was…a great man. A leader of men. A man like no other." Laeta spoke from the heart to the child she and that great man had created in a moment of heated passion and desire. A child she had never thought possible, but here he stood, a ghost of his father in his fury at her.

"A great man? Yes, he must have been to be part of the slave rebellion. Was he a slave and you is master? Did you own him? Command him at your will." Lysander shouted in accusation.

"If it had only been so, perhaps he would have been alive to see you born." Laeta spoke sharply to her son. "As it was not as you just described, he never even knew of your existence." Laeta's voice broke a bit at the end, her voice shaky from the emotions that welled up inside her. "I could more command your father, than I could command the winds."

"Who was he, mother? Tell me. All the stories you and the others told me of his greatness in battle, where they true? Or where they all lies…to silence a young boy desperate to know who he might one day become?" Lysander is voice shaking with emotion and desperation, grasping his mother's shoulders in pleading.

"The stories you were told were all true. He was a selfless warrior who thought nothing for himself. He only wish was to free those who had been enslaved by the republic, himself and his wife included."

"His wife? Were you his wife? I don't understand, if you a roman and he a slave…."

"No. You misunderstand. I was not his wife. The republic murdered his wife and he sought vengeance for it. His vengeance inspired many to rebel against the republic and wage a war to see it rumble." Laeta spoke as images of battle and war flashed in her mind.

"You speak as if the man Spartacus himself was my father." Lysander spoke remembering the lessons he had been given about the servile war defeated just before his birth, always admiring the leader, Spartacus, for his victories through cunning and skill, and his willingness to die for what he believed.

Laeta fell silent at Lysander's comment, which he took note of. His mother's eyes filled with tears and dropped upon her cheek as her emotions would no longer be held in check. Her sobs wracked her body in great heaves; Lysander guided her to the bench for her to sit as he held his crying mother in his arms.

"So it is him. Spartacus, who is my father." Lysander spoke as he held Laeta.

"Yes." Laeta spoke softly, peering up to her son's face. "We only wished to protect you from the republic by not telling you the truth of it. We feared an errant word from a young boy would set the whole of Rome down upon us. Please forgive me." Laeta pleaded with her son.

"Mother, there is nothing to forgive." Laeta gently placed her hands on either side of her son's face, holding it in her hands as she spoke earnestly to him.

"Your father would have loved you so greatly. Ours was not a love match, but I believe he cared for me and I cared for him. His greatest wish would have been for his only son to live as a free man."

Lysander's eyes filled with emotion, but did not spill over. He stroked his mother's hand and arm in comfort at her heartfelt declaration. How hard it must have been to keep a secret such as this for so long.

"Then you have done well, mother. For you have granted his wish. I am a free man." Lysander spoke as Laeta smiled at his forgiving tone and gentle touch. Laeta took a deep breath and sighed at the heavy weight that had been lifted from her shoulders. She turned to the bundle that she had carried with her so protectively up the hill. She placed it in her lap reverently before her son.

"When your father passed into the afterlife, there was no time for us to prepare a proper funeral pyre. It would have given to much notice to our position. However, Agron took a thing to remember your father by, so when our memories started to fade, we could glance upon it and remember the man who set us free." Laeta began to unwrap the bundle to uncover its contents.

"We did not know was his son grew inside my womb. Once discovered, Agron knew it was truly the gods who guided his hand to remove such a thing from your father's person before we lay him beneath the ground."

The bundle now unwrapped; it revealed a leather brace with an all-seeing eye on the back of hand and a snake that wrapped about the top.

"Your father wore this in his final battle against Rome. He died with it as well. It would be fitting for his son to have it." Laeta passed the brace to Lysander, who touched it in amazement. Laeta stroked the silver snake upon it, remembering the gentle hands that wore it.

"It has been my belief that you father has always watched over you from the afterlife. This brace shall forever link you to him, as you venture onto the battlefield." Laeta gently placed the brace on her son's hand as she spoke.

"But what of you. Surely a thing of such treasured memory would wound you deeply with its departure from your presence." Lysander spoke as he watched his mother part with the only thing she had of his.

"The brace's safe return, along with your own, with be a most treasured gift and will balm any wound from the memory of its departure." Laeta spoke as she smiled and touched the dimple in her son's cheek, which had appeared with his smile.

Lysander embraced his mother tightly, holding her close to him, feeling the love he had always known was there for him.

"I will return, mother. And when I do, I wish to know all about my real father." Lysander spoke soberly.

"Shall know all." Laeta promised.

_Several Days later..._.

That was several days ago, and Laeta sat upon the hill, watching the massing of men where her son was among them.

The wind picked up as her soul reached out to him, to Spartacus. Praying to him to protect their son. Her eyes closed as the wind increased, picking up her hair in wild locks.

"_He shall be protected." _Laeta heard in her mind. It was the same voice, which came to her the night of his birth, and on the night, 10 years past, Lysander was sick with fever and she sat at his bedside for days praying for his survival.

A smile crept across Laeta's lips in happiness, as a gentle stroke of an invisible hand whispered across her cheek. It was a caress he had given her as she had kissed him one final time before the final battle. He was with her now, standing behind her, hand upon sword, silently watching and guarding as they both watched the column of men march towards uncertain fate. A bright light flashed before Laeta's eyes...

Laeta awoke suddenly. It was the middle of night; she looked around her trying to gain her bearings. She glanced at Sybil next to her. Her eyes locked with Agron, who sat up in solemn guard. He broke the glance and continued to stare into the flames of the campfire, pain visible upon his brow.

Laeta glance around looking for Spartacus, but he was nowhere to be found. She noticed the mountains all around them, it dawned on her that everything she had just experienced was a dream. A wonderful, heartbreaking dream. Spartacus had only been dead one day.

Laeta glanced to her flat stomach, touching gingerly, dare she consider the possibility of the dream being reality. A fat tear traveled down her face as she wished she had never woken.


End file.
